On Pause
by Feeling Sinister
Summary: Upon exiting rehab, Craig Manning hopes that maybe his life and his romance with Ellie Nash had merely been put on pause.
1. Eject

This story has been written a few dozen times around these parts and I read a few of them without really liking what I saw. That is not meant to be an offensive comment as much as a "why I felt I needed to write this" excuse. I just can't help but see things my way. I guess you can't really control your inspirations.

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On Pause  
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Eject

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In the grand scheme of things, six months is a singular grain of sand in a handful; minute, forgettable, and apt to slip through your fingers without the slightest notice. But to a nineteen-year-old boy (definitely not yet a man, mind you), sitting on that same plaid couch in that same off-white room day in and day out, burning in the inferno of some mid-level rehabilitation clinic in Calgary, six months was eternity after eternity, piled on top of one another and littered around the dismal common area like skyscrapers. Month in and month out, he wandered around them, unable to see the tops.

As one would expect, Craig Manning's time was chiefly spent devoted to his guitar. The chords that flowed from his strings had a tendency to be melancholy, the lyrics from his pen about pain, hope, redemption. And yet, somehow, no matter how many days came and went, Craig restrained himself from writing The Song. Sifting his thoughts through the musical sieve to end up with some refined material and maybe figuring out once and for all how he felt about the girl.

The girl was not Ashley Kerwin, his first love, and it was definitely not Manny Santos, the mistake he made over and over again. The longest six months of Craig's life were spent dwelling on just how much he screwed up the best chance he'd ever had at happiness; the best friend he could always count on, one Eleanor Nash.

Ashley had inspired several love songs, one of which was even responsible for drawing Manny into his bed. And Manny had had her share of heartfelt acoustic funk songs in her day, but there had never been a song for the red-haired drummer, standing comfortably a few feet behind him, smiling through one self-destructive choice of his to another. His days on the road and recording in Vancouver found him calling Ellie with dilemmas before even Manny, or his best guy friends, Jimmy and Marco. Whatever his problem, it seemed, Ellie had a solution to offer or, failing that, a shoulder on which to cry. And then, as is bound to happen once someone gets a little fame, Craig began to take her for granted.

It was one of those things for which he kicked himself every day; a few weeks into rehab, when the withdrawl was really setting in he'd decided it was his punishment. His punishment for stepping on his friends; for leaving the band behind, for getting Manny into drugs, for crapping all over his family, and for Ellie, Ellie, everything and Ellie.

----

A fittingly blinding light accompanied the doors' swinging open and Craig's re-entrance into the world. His stepfather, Joey Jeremiah, stood on the concrete in front of the clinic, something between a smile and a grimace plastered to his face. "Craig," he said, somewhat breathlessly, as his surrogate son pressed into him for an awkward embrace, "Welcome back, soldier."

The car ride to Joey's new house seemed to take ages, and few words were spoken. Joey visited the clinic rather frequently during Craig's stay, eventually bringing Angie, Craig's half-sister, once Craig was clean enough to see her. Though their relationship was usually a close one, it went without saying that nothing could ever be the same again. During his stay with Joey, Craig had been given dozens of "second chances," but after half a year of round-the-clock medical care to rid him of an already-expensive cocaine addiction, courtesy of a man who wasn't even his blood relation, Craig understood that he could not mooch off his stepfather forever.

"I'm thinking about moving back to TO," Craig spoke up, ending a realtively awkward silence.

The relief in Joey's voice was apparent. "I was wondering if you might do that," he said, rather curtly.

In the passenger seat, Craig squirmed. "Yeah, it's just... I think I need the support system. Not that you haven't been more than great... I just... I miss people, y'know? I haven't really... okay, I didn't call anyone while I was in there. Not anyone."  
"Not even Manny?" Joey broke in, concerned.

"No," Craig replied, seeming to realize this for the first time, "Not her. I was thinking about it and I probably have enough cash from my dad's life insurance money to get myself set up in Toronto. I'll get a job somewhere and maybe even start playing some shows... same old friends. No toxic influences."

Joey seemed to ponder this for a moment as he turned his SUV into the driveway of his new home. "If you think that's best, Craig, you know I won't be the one to stop you."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, a grin spread across Craig's face. His feet barely seemed to touch the garage stairs as he floated up and into this unfamiliar house, ready to pack his things and resume a life he hoped had merely been put on pause.

----  
I have a bad personal history of discontinuing stories, but hopefully I'll write more when I'm not so tired. Please R&R?


	2. Play

A/N: I acknowledge that I'm playing god here and messing with the time frame a little. "What it Feels Like for a Ghost," where Craig left for rehab, took place in early fall and my story, supposedly set six months later, is taking place at the beginning of the following summer. I suppose that in my universe, he would have left for rehab sometime in January. Though I doubt this will really offend anyone, I thought I'd say something just the same.

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Play  
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"Hello?" the unmistakable, disguising-a-laugh voice of Marco del Rossi drifted out from the cordless telephone receiver and into Craig's ear.

"Marco? Hi! This is Craig," he began, only to be cut drastically short.

"Craig! Craig! Oh my gosh... Dylan, Craig's on the phone! He's actually calling!" A pause, then: "Yes, he's on the phone!" Craig waited. "I don't know if he's still in rehab," Marco's voice came, obviously still talking to Dylan, "Do you want me to ask him? Okay, I will." Pause. "Craig? Hey. Still in rehab?"  
Craig couldn't help but chuckle. "No, no I got out this morning."

"Am I the first one you called?" Marco's voice was playful, yet demanding. It was apparent that this Meant A Lot To Him.

"Yes," Craig smiled into the receiver, "I had to call you guys first thing because... well, I wanted to ask what you guys are up to this week? Like you, Dylan and... Ellie," her name sounded foreign in his mouth. It was then that he realized he hadn't said the name aloud in months, despite its incessant repetition in his head. "Would you be up for company?"

The answer Craig got wasn't really an answer at all as much as an excited whoop from Marco and the sound of Dylan celebrating in the background, then: "We'll leave the door unlocked all day."

As Craig hung the phone up, he couldn't help but acknowledge that the hours he'd spent out of rehab had been all but perfect so far. His stuff, he'd found, was still packed from Joey's move to Calgary and could easily be shipped to Toronto. He'd taken Angie out for lunch at her favorite diner in this unfamiliar city and gotten caught up on the exciting events in her life, including the tale of a first kiss that made him snap instantly into the protective big brother mentality he hadn't even known that he missed. And best of all, Joey was wholly accommodating to him, if not the slightest bit cold; sparing him the advice and lectures to which Craig had become accustomed and, for the most part, staying in his study and out of the way, leaving Craig to his own devices.

Signing onto the computer to purchase next-day airline tickets, Craig couldn't help but wonder if he was moving too fast. Toronto was not exactly a museum, with everything behind its own glass case, and there was almost no way it had stayed exactly the same. What if there wasn't still a place for him?

The moment the thought had formed, a picture of Ellie Nash flooded his mind. Or rather, a visualization of Ellie's smile, Ellie's reliable eyes shining up at him. If there was one thing he could depend on, it would be that she would be there. That she would be up for a midnight trek to the Dot for a cup of coffee and an all-night chat, or would make up a pot of his favorite homemade macaroni and cheese without even asking if he needed comfort food. And maybe in the wee hours of the morning or over a steaming bowl of pasta, he would confront It. The mortal sin he committed before his departure. He would finally get to make it right.

Six months ago, when he told Ellie Nash he loved her, he hadn't meant it in the slightest. Sure, it was there, buried in some part of his damaged teenage psyche, but the words coming out of his mouth were the very definition of insincere. The kiss they shared was one of desperation, and, in retrospect, of shame and regret. The drugs stood in his way, fogging up his brain, until everything was coated with a fine, white powder. But six months had changed that - six months stewing in a pot of self-disgust had allowed everything to settle in around him and when everything had slowed to a standstill; when it was only him, Craig, alone in Calgary, bare feet hanging off the end of a cot that was a little too small for him, he could see her clearly. He could see that she'd always been there and that she always would be. And this dedication he saw, this unwavering devotion that Ellie had personified for the past two years, was suddenly overwhelmingly attractive to him. He swore to himself, then and there, that the first chance he got, he needed to get his skinny white ass to Toronto to beg her forgiveness. He needed to make her fall back in love with him.

--

His arrival to the Greater Toronto Airport was drastically different than his last. As he stepped off the plane, there was no smiling girlfriend there to greet him. Normally, this would be something upon which he would dwell: a moment spent in his own melancholy, but he could feel the endorphins swelling in his brain. This was definitely a high period. Craig paused for a moment to wonder whether he'd taken his medication this morning, before shrugging off the idea as quickly as it had entered his brain - there wasn't time for mental disorders when he was finally in such close proximity to the girl he loved.

An hour's worth of fighting with the other passengers at the baggage claim to get his hands on those few possessions of his that had survived Joey's cross-country move and riding in a cab with a driver who barely spoke English later, Craig found himself at the barely-familiar doorstep of the home of Ellie, Marco, and Dylan. No sooner than his knuckles had touched the heavy oak door, it swung open to reveal a jubilantly-grinning Marco.

"Craig!" his friend exclaimed, pulling him into a relieved embrace. Pulling back, Marco wrinkled his nose quizzically, "Is this _all_ your luggage?"

Craig's shoulders heaved as he took in a deep breath. "I'm moving back," he said quickly, as if expecting a backlash. "I mean, not, like, here with you... I'm... I'm gonna get an apartment and a job and maybe eventually start university and-"  
"Dude, that's great!" Marco exclaimed, hugging his friend again, "It's almost _too _great, actually! And who's to say you can't move in here?"

"Huh?"

The expression on Marco's face fell. "There's room. Dylan's only sticking around for a few more weeks before he ships out to Switzerland to crush my heart and join a professional hockey team. And," Marco hesitated, knowing full well he was treading on awkward ground, "Ellie moved in with Jesse when the semester got over."

Doing his best to contain his pure and utter disappointment, Craig nodded a little too vigorously. "And you were planning on living here alone? How could you afford it?"

Marco shrugged nonchalantly, "I was putting up posters asking, nay, begging for a roomie - but I don't need that now!" he finished with a grin. "What do you say, buddy?"

Living in this renovated old house just outside of Toronto with one of his best friends in the whole world sounded like it just might be the best thing that ever happened to him. Without even considering whether or not after his life out of park and into drive, he should press the accelerator all the way to the floor, a grin spread across Craig's face and he picked up his heaviest bag. "Deal."

--

Mere hours later, Craig sat idly at the dining room table as his new living room filled with his old friends. Marco and Dylan had wasted no time in throwing him another welcome home party - this one on a much greater scale. It had been Dylan's idea, without much consideration, to invite a rather copious amount of his own college friends - "Hey, I'm leaving in two weeks - do you really want to throw _another_ party when we could be spending time together?" - who, in turn, brought rather copious amounts of alcohol.

Putting a hand on Craig's shoulder, Marco scowled at a blonde girl he'd never even seen before as she attempted to climb atop the table, a fifth of Southern Comfort still clenched in her hand." I know this isn't exactly what you'd expect for your Back-From-Rehab party, but..."

At that moment, Craig ceased to listen. Because as his friend spoke, a petite figure entered the dining room, dressed casually in an obscure rock band t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, her red hair hanging straight down the sides of her somewhat-smiling face.

Noticing the newfound light in his friend's eyes, Marco shook his head sadly. "No. Craig Manning, in the name of all that is good; you've caused enough trouble for that girl..."

Serotonin surging in his brain, Craig stood, nearly tripping over his chair in the process. "It's not going to be that way this time. It won't be!"

Marco still waving his hands in that universal "hazard" signal behind him, Craig strode purposefully up to the girl and placed a hand on the small of her back. She jumped in startled surprise, interrupting her conversation with Ashley.  
"Craig!" she gasped. He couldn't detect any disgust in her voice, but, he sadly noted, no warmth was present, either.

Craig's lips turned into a smile, "Don't act like it's such a surprise - you know what this party's for, right?"

Ellie shifted her weight uncomfortably, "Well, yeah."

His hand still on her back, he guided her away, slightly, and into the kitchen. To his surprise, she walked along with him. The kitchen of Marco and Dylan's home was small and slightly crowded, as one of Dylan's friends had set up a keg on the counter. "Did you miss me?" Craig said, finally, his face breaking into a grin.

Her face was unreadable; "I got by."

"You always do," he said through a smile.

Trying to figure out what that remark meant, she searched his face with her eyes. The thought crossed her mind that maybe he was still entertaining the notion that he was in love with her. _At least until Manny waltzes back into his life_, she began to add before her thought process was interrupted by Craig's lips on hers and Craig's arms around her waist.

Instinctively, she brought her hands to his face, enjoying this kiss for a moment until she remembered exactly who this was. The boy who had pulled her heart out and stomped on it only months earlier. As quickly as she had melted, she pushed his face away from her own, crying out in disgust. "What the hell do you think you're trying to do, Craig?"

Craig shuddered, looking around. The kitchen was not empty. People were staring. "I..." his voice dropped, audible only to the two of them, "I said I was in love with you, Elle. Nothing changed."

Her jaw fell slack, in disbelief. "How can you _say_ that? _Everything_'s changed, Craig, you've been gone for six months! I have a boyfriend that I love! I have a boyfriend that I live with, for crying out loud! What are you gonna do, come pick me up from my _boy_friend's house for a date?!"

For the most part, Craig couldn't even hear her angry tirade; the blood in his head was pounding against his skull, like it hadn't for months. She couldn't just turn him down: he _needed_ her! He didn't come all the way back to Toronto just to watch Ellie lead a happily-ever-after life with some hotshot editor boyfriend. She was going to be _his_ and he would make sure of that. If only he had some cocaine, he could -  
Craig froze, hand extended slightly toward Ellie, as if he had planned on touching her shoulder. For the first time since his exit from rehab, he remembered the drugs. How they made him feel as if he could do anything in the world. A little bit of cocaine and he'd have the confidence to win her back for sure.  
"Craig?" she asked, concern flooding her face, watching him stand statue-still in front of her, a pained expression on his face. "Are you okay?"

In an instant, it was clear what he had to do. The look in her eyes while watching him hurt told him everything he needed to know about worming his way back into her heart.

"I'll be fine, Elle, I just... they can't fully break you of it, you know?" he stammered, rubbing his temples as if withdrawal had given him a bitch of a headache.

"Of drugs?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded and started walking towards the kitchen door. To his surprise, she followed. He kept talking: "Half the time I know I can never go back to that - that person that I turned into, but when I'm," opening the door to the front yard, he gave her a poignant stare, "hurting-" (Ellie blushed, looking downward) "- I just don't know what I'm going to do without a fix."

They were out on the front porch now, secluded from the bustle of the party and the noise of Dylan's largely intoxicated friends. "It's a lifelong battle, you know, addiction. I still think about... cutting," her voice softened, "almost every day."

"I feel like I'm all alone," he said, quite truthfully, "Especially if I don't have you."

She touched his arm fondly, "You'll always have me, Craig, you know that. Even if it's not the way you want," she added quickly, and, he hoped, out of duty.

"Let's hang out tomorrow night," he said, putting his hand atop hers. "Just you and me - not like this. I'll probably be job hunting and moving in all day tomorrow, but there's no one I'd rather have dinner with than Eleanor Nash."

"Craig," she smiled playfully, "I am not going on a date with you."

"Yes you are. Or else I'll... I'll relapse!"

Clearly flirting with him, she gave his arm a little shove. "That's not funny!"

Spinning around, he grabbed both of her hands and held them in his. "Just one date. Just to hear about how things are going for you and to show you how much I've changed. One date. You don't even need to tell Jesse."

There was silence as she pondered this for a moment. "Okay. And I most certainly _am_ telling Jesse. I have nothing to hide."

Without a further word, she turned and skipped down the steps, off the porch, and began her walk back to the street, too busy cursing herself for letting Craig Manning creep his way back onto her mind and into her heart to see that very boy, standing on the porch of his home of one day pump his fist very exaggeratedly into the air in celebration of his victory.

---

Not to whine, but two reviews is more than a little disheartening. Many more would really be appreciated!


	3. Fast Forward

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I've been so busy that I'm not sure if this is entirely up to par. Drama's not my genre.  
I didn't invent these characters.

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Fast Forward  
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"The infamous Craig Manning," the man, in his late twenties and wearing a moderately-priced dress shirt and pants, said, extending his hand for a shake. His nametag read "Kirk" and then "Manager."

Rubber Soul Records was an independent chain around Toronto, with enough locations and business to be relatively inexpensive, but enough "indie cred" for Craig to not feel he'd handed over the entirety of his soul to this just-above-minimum-wage job his own manager had lined up for him.

"Now, I'm gonna be straight with you, because that's just the guy I am," Kirk said with a salesman's grin, "You've basically got the job. This interview is just a formality thing - just to make sure you're not some kind of creep. You come highly recommended, though, buddy!" With this, Kirk punched Craig playfully on the shoulder, as if this had been a hilarious joke and not just a statement that was pretty much true.

Craig chuckled nervously, "Yeah, well, I can't do the 'musician thing' full time - not right now, anyway."

"Well, I just have a couple mandatory questions," Kirk started, looking down at a clipboard," can you work weekends?"

"Yeah, no problem."  
"Ever been convicted of a felony?"

Craig smiled, "Nope."

In keeping with the buddy-buddy routine he'd set up earlier, Kirk went in for another shoulder punch, which Craig dodged somewhat annoyed, silently praying his new job wouldn't allow for much one-on-one manager time. "Didn't think so, old sport. Now, any problems we should know about? Are you a smoker? A drinker? Any history of drug use or shoplifting?"

With all his might, Craig tried to restrain himself from making any faces. Instead, he shook his head dismissively from side to side. "I'm way too serious about my music for that stuff."

Kirk made a mark on his clipboard, as Craig's insides twisted into a variety of balloon animals. Did he buy it? "That just leaves one more thing," Kirk said, his voice ominous. Surely his manager wouldn't have told this man about rehab... In an instant, Kirk's voice regained its over-friendliness: "We need to get you fitted for your very own grey and red polo!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Craig pasted a smile on his face and followed Kirk out of the room, praying he'd look good in a polyester blend.

--

Ellie Nash most certainly was _not_ telling Jesse.  
The morning following Craig's arrival was a Saturday and, luckily for her, one that found her live-in boyfriend leaving mid-morning for a weekend-long trek to Newfoundland, where he and his "buddies" would camp, fish, drink, and bond in the kind of male way they both understood that she'd never understand. Her brain was already screaming out apologies for what she was free to do a matter of hours later as an SUV containing a few of Jesse's friends pulled up to their apartment. While he kissed her goodbye, it was all she could do to keep herself from confessing everything - that she definitely still had feelings for this silly highschool infatuation; that she'd waited for two years for him to show some interest in her and the fact that he finally was hadn't left her mind from the moment she stepped off his front porch; that she'd thought of Craig during the sloppy, half-asleep sex they'd had that morning; that it'd felt better than it had for months, and probably for that very reason.

She watched as the vehicle pulled out of its parking space and into the road, waiting for Jesse's hand to protrude from the passengers' side window, waving her goodbye. It didn't happen.  
Ellie sighed as she sunk into an armchair, trying to figure out how to mentally justify this lack of gesture for any mistakes she might make that night.

--

Phone in hand, Craig clenched his teeth angrily as he attempted to juggle the insertion of his left leg into his favorite pair of corduroys and his frustration with the Toronto Cab Company, who seemed unable to process a request for a cab to pick him up in front of his house ten minutes from then. "Marco!" he shouted, for what seemed like the tenth time, "I need to borrow your razor! ... No, I wasn't talking to you," he barked angrily into the phone, "I said _Marco_, my room- oh, your name is Marco, too? Well that's... that's... hey, I need a cab in ten - FIVE minutes at the corner of Fifth and Elm. Can you do that? Can you - Marco! I need your razor! I said I'd pick her up in - _No, I am not talking to you!_"

It was safe to say the pressures of getting ready for what he'd decided was the biggest date in his life was really getting to Craig. Training had run for two hours longer than he'd expected, when Kirk had gotten into an entirely one-sided debate as to whether Justin Timberlake was truly better off without NSYNC ("I know he's winning Grammys, but "Tearin' Up My Heart" was just _such_ a good song!"), leaving Craig a mere twenty minutes to scrub the last signs of rehab off his body and render himself presentable enough to lead Ellie astray.

Once he had procured his roommate's razor, things began to pick up speed and after carefully selecting the kind of eccentric vintage-ish blazer for which he thought Ellie would go and a few splashes of cologne, he found himself running down the front steps to the awaiting cab, to scattered cries of "Good luck!" from his housemates.

He'd been too nervous to call her today, so Marco had been in charge of arranging a rendezvous time and also the one who wrote Ellie's new address on the slip of paper that Craig handed hopefully to the cabbie, having no idea what he'd do if there was any confusion.

The ride there was mercifully short - it hadn't been the kind of big adjustment Craig expected, for Ellie'd moved a mere three-quarters of a mile away from her previous residence. And to Craig's ebullient surprise, the door of the relatively huge brownstone opened almost instantaneously with the cab's stop and the thin figure of Ellie Nash stepped out into the twilight. He was ecstatic to find her dressed for the occasion: her slim figure set off perfectly by a florally patterned violet sundress. The calm, coy smile on her face masking the torrent of mixed emotions washing over her mind. As he scrambled out of the car to hold the door for her, he couldn't stop himself from mouthing a near-silent "wow."

"I heard that," she said flirtatiously. Looking over a pale shoulder at him, a radiant smile on her face, the twilight sun catching her red hair and lighting it afire against the cab's yellow backdrop, Craig couldn't help but notice that she was perfect in that moment. The kind of perfection he could write a song about... Chords, verses, and bridges were spinning around his head until her voice brought him back to an all-too-great reality. "Craig? Are we leaving or what?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized, stepping back into the taxi. Cheesy line after cheesy line spun through his head until he had no idea which to pick, "You just knocked me off my feet back there for a second," sealing the deal, he pulled back his cheeks into an idiot's grin.

Ellie broke into giggles. "You can just stop acting like that right now, Mister. Do I look like the kind of girl who would fall for a line like that?"

He rolled his eyes playfully before leaning in closer to her, strategically maneuvering his hand atop hers in the middle of the cab's backseat. "I've got a _perfect_ night planned for us. You're gonna be begging me to change my mind about saying the 'only one date' thing..."

"I'll believe that when I see it," she countered, wishing her heart was truly into this hard-to-get charade.

A short time later, the cab pulled up in front of Harold's, the go-to restaurant for Toronto teenagers with middling incomes. Both parties had been on several dates there prior (though none together) and, as Craig had hoped, treading in familiar territory comforted Ellie, telling her that maybe what she was doing was not entirely wrong.

Their table was a small one, albeit a table by the window with a romantic view of the sidestreet on which Harold's was located. Little lights were strung overhead, creating an atmosphere that brought the already-present sparkle in Craig's eye out a little more than usual. "You look so _happy_," she commented.

"Look at us!" Craig laughed, taking in the moment, "I _am_ happy."

Dinner stretched over about an hour and a half. Ellie's pasta was overcooked and the waiter brought Craig French fries instead of a baked potato, but minute problems aside, it was the kind of dinner that left them hungry for more - of each other, that is. Their food had been decidedly mediocre.

"I heard they got a new head chef," Ellie explained as the pair exited the restaurant, after being asked by their waiter to vacate their table following their sitting for fifteen minutes following the delivery of their check, lost in conversation.

Not bothering to hail another cab, they began to walk slowly down the sidewalk, finding common ground by trashing a restaurant that had once been one of their favorites.

Craig shook his head comically, "I don't see why _that_ would be the case - why would they fire someone good and hire an incompetent idiot? I mean, there is clearly a difference between French fries and baked potatoes..."

As he trailed off, the sound of his voice was replaced by a somewhat uncomfortable silence. They had arrived in Sherwood Park, a vast, shady expanse of land where they had spent many of Craig's pre-rockstar days playing Frisbee and debating everything from the lyrical content of The Decemberists to the philosophies of Sartre. It seemed only natural that their bodies should come to rest on the grassy side of a hill, overlooking a small stream.

"Everything is different since you left," she said simply, though with a smile. She'd spent the last few hours assuring him of this and, perhaps assuring herself - she had grown and her life had changed. She was no longer that girl who chucked a drumstick at Manny Santos's head as a punishment for wearing a lower-cut top than she did and she wasn't going to rearrange her life so she could wait around for Craig to grow up. The latter was repeated several times throughout the evening. Craig could sense her discomfort.

"Mmm," he nodded, surveying the landscape of the park. Even that had changed - some new playground equipment was in the process of being built where a grove of dogwood trees once grew. "But I don't think I mind. Things can't stay the same way forever." His body was leaning in toward hers now and their hands were overlapping on the warm ground, begging for her to discard her better judgment and respond.

"I'm ready to go home now," she said suddenly, her shoulders and voice stiff. "Do you think we could get a cab?"

Pulling himself to his feet, Craig nodded solemnly. _And the night had gone so well!_ He thought to himself_. This is going to be tougher than I thought..._

--

In the cab, he didn't try to put his hand on her knee or his arm around her shoulder.

They didn't speak.

--

Ellie's mind was reeling as the cab came to a stop in front of the apartment she shared with Jesse. The apartment she shared with her wonderful, perfect, handsome, overbearing, sloppy, unromantic - she stopped herself. There was nothing wrong with Jesse. Not much, anyway. But from the moment Craig had muscled his way back into her life, she had been mentally thumbing through thousands of files, sizing up the man she was sharing her life with against her high school crush who'd broken her heart time and time again. She'd been scouring her memory for mistakes Jesse'd made, for times he'd slipped up - for reasons she could throw all her warm, safe feelings to the wind and take a chance on Craig.

To her surprise, Craig ignored the cold shoulder she'd been giving him and opened her car door dutifully, before walking her to the apartment complex door.

She had all but shut the door behind her when his voice finally broke the silence that had fallen over them nearly half an hour ago. "Elle?" She turned. "Elle, I just wanted to say that - that despite everything I'm so glad I've had you in my life. And I'd give anything in the world to keep you there."

Ellie stared into his face for a moment. He smiled lopsidedly, somehow simultaneously shrugging the moment off and projecting his sincerity: as if to say "that is how I feel." And moving with the quickness of a cat, she caught him as he turned around and kissed him more passionately than she thought possible for a cynic such as herself.

Roving hands and tousled hair prolonged the kiss, which quickly turned into the kind of make out session that would make passerby blush, but years upon years of repressed feelings were being poured out, and neither party really cared _who_ saw.

"I should go," Craig said, finally, breathlessly, after a few minutes.

With a little laugh, Ellie gave his hand a squeeze. "No, you shouldn't," she paused. "Come upstairs. Jesse won't be home until tomorrow night."

Without a second thought, Craig allowed himself to be led by the hand through the door and up the stairs, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he'd said to allow this to happen.

----  
If it's not too much trouble, reviews are great! Whether it's encouragement or problems you've found (flaws in logic, grammar, etc.), I really like to get them!


	4. Record

My situations - not my characters.

Edited as of 07/08/07 - renamed this chapter due to some story re-structuring and a title I thought was more fitting. Originally this story was going to follow a seven-chapter arc, but I changed it to eight. In case you are interested. But since I kind of think no one is reading this, you probably are not.

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Record  
----

Late morning sunlight was flooding the room when Ellie opened her eyes. Recalling the events of last night, she smiled to herself, streching her arms sleepily over her head. To her surprise, when they came to rest, she realized that she was alone in the double bed normally shared with Jesse.

"Craig?" she called, worried.

A few seconds' silence made her wonder if he'd excused himself mid-morning and walked home alone. In an instant, the girl who had been hurt so many times before surfaced in her mind, deciding he'd gotten what he came for and she, like an idiot, had given it to him.

But before her concerns could further themselves, Craig stepped out of the bathroom, shirtless and with her pink toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "Thorry, buh it'sh noh like I braugh one," he said, through a toothpaste grin.

The worried look on Ellie's face instantly broke into a grin, followed by a few happy, disbelieving giggles when he disappeared back into the bathroom. In seconds flat, Craig had returned and made his way toward the bed, where Ellie self-conciously held the bedsheet over her bare top. He lowered himself next to her, their faces at the same level. "Last night was perfect," he whispered gratefully, "I am so, _so_, still in love wi-"

The sentence was cut short because the moment that four-letter-word left his lips, her own were there to meet it. She'd waited years to hear him say that, and then months to hear him mean it, but now that that moment was upon her, her head was full of doubts. While being with Craig felt so undeniably _right_, Ellie couldn't fully ignore the fact that their first sexual experience together had taken place in a bed Jesse bought for her to share with _him_. She couldn't just switch off her relationship with a live-in boyfriend after one admittedly perfect night with her ex-best friend.

"I've gotta go, though," Craig said mournfully, interrupting her thoughts. "I have to be to the store in an hour and a half and, plus, I'd hate to be here when you-know-who gets back." There was a pause, as the mention of Jesse settled in over them. Craig's voice dropped to a whisper, as if the man was standing in the room with them, "You _are_ going to break up with him, aren't you?" he asked confidently.

Perhaps trying to prolong the time before her answer, she kissed his lips a few short times, mulling her options over. "I don't know, Craig... It's not an easy situation..."

As her voice trailed off, he felt the anger rising in his chest. "I _love_ you Ellie! I fucking love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire _life_! I don't think you understand what I _went through_ while I was waiting for you and,"

"Whoa!" she yelled, pulling the sheet snugly over her chest as she backed away from him, "You are _not_ going to yell at me like that _in my own house_! You can't just waltz back into my life and expect me to rearrange everything immediately to suit your desires! It's preposterous!" Suddenly feeling unsafe around him, she rolled out of bed, still wrapped in the sheet and began rooting around in her dresser for some clothes.

The realization that his anger was driving away hit Craig like a ton of bricks as he slid off the bed and crawled toward her on his knees, a few tears beginning to well in his eyes. "Please, Elle... please just say you love me... you don't have to..." his voice cracked as he searched for the words, "You don't have to break up with him as long as you promise that you love me."

His good behavior on their date had all but allowed her to forget about his bipolar tendencies - how horrible his lows could be when he clearly wasn't taking his medication. "Craig," she said softly, now half-dressed in a t-shirt and underwear, "You know I love you, it's just -"  
Not waiting to hear anymore, he stood and took her face in his, kissing her with all the passion and fury of someone who finally got what they wanted. "Alright, okay. Just make up your mind... please, please, please make up your mind and, and call me at Marco's tonight. I really have to get going." He kissed her again. "I love you, Elle."

Craig turned and headed toward the door before turning around and grabbing his shirt off the bedroom floor. "Bye Ellie," he said through a grin.  
Ellie couldn't help but smile back. "Bye Craig."

--

Work, Craig learned, consisted of wandering around the large sales floor, looking busy and answering questions from customers who could not seem to figure out the alphabetical order in which the compact discs and vinyl records had been placed. The first half of his eight-hour shift progressed uneventfully, if not slower than hell, while his mind tossed and turned with thoughts of the previous night and Ellie: what she was doing right now, if she'd kissed Jesse since his return, if they'd fucked in the same bed, or - he hardly even dared to think it - if she'd dumped him on the spot, confessed that Craig was the man for her, and told him to take a hike. A smile crossed his face as he headed toward the store's back room to punch out for his break, thinking of Ellie packing all of her things into boxes, ready to move back in with Marco and, more importantly, him.

"Craig?" came a familiar voice from behind him, bringing him crashing down from his happily ever after.

He spun around to find his ex-girlfriend Manny Santos, her hair a little shorter than when he'd seen her last, wearing a miniskirt and a low-cut top, begging for him to notice her. "Manny... hey," he said uneasily, sensing trouble coming on.

"I had no idea you worked here!" she said truthfully, "I didn't even know you were even back in TO... what gives?"

He studied the CDs in her hand condescendingly - Black Eyed Peas and The Pussycat Dolls, not something _he'd_ ever pick - or Ellie, for that matter, but somehow it seemed endearing, fitting, that Manny would select such blasé music. "I finished my stint in," his voice dropped, barely audible, "rehab, and, gosh, I just missed everyone like hell, so it seemed right."

"Did you miss me?" she asked brightly.

Manny had crossed his mind several times while he was in the rehab clinic; mostly on the long, lonely nights in his cot, when he was shaking for lack of drugs and could barely even remember what a girl's touch felt like. His hands would recall the feel of her tan skin; his mouth, the feel of her tongue probing its depths... in all honesty, he hadn't thought about one thing she'd ever told him, none of the "I love you"s or the years of her adoring compliments upon which he'd thrived in his Downtown Sasquatch days... he'd missed Manny Santos' body more than anything - the feel of it and how she'd made it readily available to him for years on end. "Yeah," he smiled thoughtfully, "I sure did."  
Craig's half-hour break was spent eating lunch with Manny in the cafe across the street from Rubber Soul. He learned about Damien, Manny's new boyfriend, who was leaving her to study public relations at Oxford at the end of the summer ("Boy, can I ever relate to that," he'd said, with a bittersweet laugh, conjuring up memories of Ashley's disasterous trip to England a few years earlier). He learned that Manny was living at home once again, with parents who were still disappointed with her choice to pursue acting instead of university. Eerily, the set-up reminded him of last night's meal with Ellie - the girl trying as hard as she can to convince him her life had gone on without him in it.

"It's funny," she said, after Craig had offered to pick up her check, "I was so, _so_ nervous that when I saw you again, I wouldn't be able to stop hating you or - worse, that I'd love you again... but this is kind of... nice..."

Craig smiled, "It is nice. You know I love spending time with you." The two stood up and as Craig pushed his chair back in, he was caught by the double surprise of Manny laying a kiss on his lips and spotting Jesse, who had been lunching only twenty feet away across the restaurant, a smug smile on his face as he held up what had to be a camera phone, unsubtly pointed in their direction.

"Whoa!" he pulled away from her, alarmed. "Don't get the wrong idea, Manny, I just meant as..." he trailed off, unable even to look at her, for being locked in a staring contest with Jesse, who looked like he'd won the lottery. During those seconds, his world came crashing down around him. If Ellie had told him anything about Craig, Jesse now had photographic proof that he was being unfaithful to her (however unwittingly) only hours after their tryst in her apartment.

Manny turned around, searching the restaurant until she found what it was at which Craig was staring so frantically. "Ohmigod..." she breathed, somehow feeling sorry for stepping on the toes of this thing she supposed was happening between Craig and Ellie, "Craig, I had no idea you and Ellie were... I mean, I guess it makes sense and I told you I have a boyfriend, didn't I? That was just cuckoo bananas of me because I have a boyfriend and you don't think he'll show that to Ellie, will he? Ugh, I am sooooo sorry..."  
Craig wasn't even listening to Manny's blathering - he was unable to break Jesse's gaze. So she _had_ told him... And now it was all over.

"Come on, Manny," he said, defeatedly, throwing money on the table and grabbing her by the arm as they headed out of the restaurant and walked back across the street. "I have to go back to work. Thanks... thanks for having lunch with me."

"Wait," the girl said, putting a hand on his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Are you in love with her?"

Craig shrugged, "Does it even matter anymore?" he said wildly, "You went and screwed _that_ one up, Santos! I just... You can't do _any_thing good in my life, can you, Manny? It's all gotta be _ruin_, doesn't it?"

Looking like she was about to cry, Manny tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Craig, I'll make this up to you, I swear. I'll... I'll find a way." Without looking back to watch him enter the building, she turned and walked back up the street, though in the opposite direction of her home, tears beginning to flow from her eyes.

----


	5. Stop

Writing without reviews is a depressing experience, I'm learning. If you like what you're reading, please drop a note.

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Stop

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"What are you doing in there?" Marco yelled, worried, at Craig's bedroom door. It was almost eleven and he'd been in his room, blaring angry rock music, since his return from work two hours earlier than he'd predicted. With the knowledge of Craig Marco had acquired over the years, he figured it was something girl-related. With Craig, the problem could usually be traced back to the fairer sex. It didn't take much for Marco to figure out that whatever problem was causing this angst-ridden spiral into room arrest probably arose from the fact that Craig never came home after that date with Ellie the previous night. "You'd better not be naked... I'm coming in!"

When Marco opened the door, he half-expected to find some tragic scenario - Craig passed out across the bed with a goblet of poisoned wine in his hand or surrounded by candles as he prepared to perform an ancient voodoo love charm, kneeling in front of a blown-up picture of Ellie's unsuspecting face. Instead, he was met with the too-familiar sight of destruction, as Craig had thrown all the clothes out of his still-packed suitcases and torn the comforter off his new bed. The boy sat, propped against the bed, cigarette protruding from his mouth and notepad in lap as he scribbled feverishly without looking up.

"Hey - Craig?" Marco asked, attempting to break into this bubble of self-pity.

"Yeah?" Craig responded, not breaking from his writing.

Marco shifted his weight uneasily. "Uhhh... what'cha doin'?"

This question caused Craig to fold his notebook shut calmly. He reached a pale arm over to the stereo, turning the volume down from 'commercial-jet-taking-off' to 'only-somewhat-loud', and dragged on the cigarette. Marco forced a cough disapprovingly. "The whole time I was in rehab, I tried to write a song for Ellie. Y'know, one that would let her know how I felt. Ideally, it would make her love me," Craig explained.

"Well?"

"Well, now my most favorite person in the world, Manny, went and fucked me over and it doesn't even matter." He laughed sardonically, changing his next words into an exaggerated version of his own singing voice. "Doesn't fucking matter..."

Marco stepped backwards, towards the door (and sanity, he added silently in his head.) "She's here."

"Ellie?!" Craig asked excitedly, clambering to his feet and causing the notebook to fall, without much regard, to the floor. Instantaneously, he smashed his cigarette into the ashtray. "Is she coming up?"

"No," Marco said slowly, a grimace clearly visible on his face. "Manny... and I told her to wait downstairs."

Craig kicked the side of his bed angrily, "Oh my _God_, hasn't she done _enough _for me today?"  
"She said it's important. I'm not just going to make her leave."

Sinking back onto the bed with his face in his hands, Craig caved. "Fine... fine, send her in. She'd better have _some_ apology for making me lose out on the best thing I'll ever have."

Thinking he couldn't respond to this without a scathingly sarcastic remark regarding Craig's love life, Marco disappeared out the door without a word. Moments later, Manny appeared in his place. She'd changed clothes, Craig noticed, into a modest and very un-Manny t-shirt and sweat pants. An unbecoming look of stress marked her pretty face.

"What?" Craig demanded immediately.

The girl crossed her arms as if it had suddenly become very cold and bit her lip nervously, "I just wanted to say that I'm very, very sorry for what happened this afternoon... I had no idea about you and Ellie and I would hate for you to think that I'd _want_ to break you two up." She waited for a response, for something from the boy sitting, stone-faced, on the bed, but nothing happened. Determined, she continued: "I guess it's just something about you, Craig, I mean - I think I can't just turn off my feelings for you. I think that no matter who I'm with, a little part of me is always going to love you and it's going to hurt but I really just want you to be happy." More silence. The pain on her face grew more apparent as she thrust her right hand into the deep pockets of her sweat pants. "So I got you this."

Craig could smell the contents of the little plastic bag before it even emerged from Manny's pocket. It had been over six months since the career-breaking show he was supposed to play with Taking Back Sunday had transpired and, accordingly, just as long since he had a hit of cocaine. But his body had not forgotten the way it felt - the explosion of all his senses and the comfort he received, knowing that his pain could be dulled anytime he reached out to the Impartial White Lady.

Rehab had taught him that he didn't need the drugs - that his life was perfectly enjoyable before coke had thrust itself into his life by way of Vancouver. He had fun clowning around with Spinner and making music with Marco and Jimmy, he could talk literature with Ellie or play Monopoly with Angie and have a good time whenever he so chose. But the bag in Manny's open hand was screaming in Craig's ear that he _could_ be having a _great_ time. Even now, when it seemed like, without Ellie, his life could just end right here and now and he would welcome it with open arms.

"I'm not going to stick around for this," Manny warned, once he'd taken the baggie out of her hand. "I just," as she paused, Craig noticed there were clearly tears visible in her eyes, "I really want you to be happy. That's all."

More grateful than he could even believe, Craig stood, reaching his arms to embrace her, but she backed away.

"Just don't, okay? I've still got Damien and he loves me and you..." she stopped, a sob caught in her throat. "Just do what you want, alright? Maybe it'll be the confidence boost you need to get her back." With a sad shrug, Manny turned and walked out of the door, wondering if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.

When she had left, Craig darted to the door to make sure Marco wasn't coming up and then leaned, barricade-style against the heavy oak door. The bag of coke felt heavy in his hands as the last words Manny had spoke to him sparkled in his mind. "Maybe it'll be the confidence boost you need..." A nagging doubt he assumed might be his conscience whispered a few nothings in his ear, and, however quiet, he considered his options. Everyone would be _so_ disappointed in him if he started using again - and only two days fresh from rehab? It would be nearly a record relapse.

Craig thought about everyone that had invested in his recovery - Joey and his money, Angie and her loneliness without a big brother to drive her around and loan her his favorite CDs, all the therapists and counselors he'd seen at the clinic who worked past their frustration with his mental condition to become proud of all the progress he'd made, his friends that he'd missed so much while he was in Calgary, and, above all, Ellie. Ellie, who had been so disillusioned when she discovered his drugs that she ignored bold-faced logic and pretended they weren't even his. What would _they_ think if they knew he was up in this room with this baggie of the very thing that had set his calendar six months behind everyone else's (he kept needing to repeatedly be brought up to speed on such important events as Spinner's engagement to Darcy and the subsequent dissolution of said union only two weeks later, the tragic death of JT Yorke who he sort-of knew as the kid who dated Manny once or twice, and Jimmy's joyous departure to the Rhode Island School of Design, finally supported by his parents). Did he really want to risk losing his place once again in the circle of friends on which he wanted so badly to rely once again?

_But who says they need to know?_ asked the horned figure Craig imagined was perched on his shoulder. _It's just this once. Just this one time and then Ellie comes back and there's no pain any more. Ever again._  
It sounded pretty nice, Craig thought to himself as he poured some of the bag's contents onto a cd case that had been lying, discarded, on the bed. He knelt down in front of it, mouthing a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that something would finally work out for him.

--

The tearstains were still present on Ellie's cheeks when she heard the door buzzer. The last few hours had been a blur of thoughts and emotions - should she confront Craig about what Jesse had showed her - would it be better to just let him burn in the agony of knowing she hated him again?

When she'd received the phone call from Jesse that afternoon, she honestly had not believed him. She'd told him earlier that Craig was back in town and that she'd have to re-evaluate their relationship, told him that she "definitely" still had feelings for Craig. He'd seemed understanding, if not a little depressed and, something for which she was very grateful, didn't make any mention of what her housing situation would be if they were to break up. Jesse was understandably a little miffed, but to make up a story about Craig on a date with Manny only hours later? That seemed a little desperate, if not entirely farfetched. As far as she knew, Craig's thoughts were solely on her for once in her life, and she was going to revel in it.

But a few minutes after Jesse had hung up the phone in a huff, her phone vibrated to life in her pocket to say there was a message in her inbox. And a fear she hadn't even considered manifested itself right in front of her eyes. Jesse had sent a picture, one of low-quality and out-of-focus that clearly showed Craig and Manny engaged in a polite, tender kiss over some arbitrary meal at some arbitrary restaurant. "What else is new?" read the affixed text message.

Jesse had come home directly after the meal to comfort her; to wrap his arms around her and say he'd never do something that stupid ("...again," she'd added, dejectedly and aloud.) He'd said Craig saw him take the picture and he'd know immediately that he'd fucked up a good thing and that he probably wouldn't be bothering her anymore. "Not unless he wants to answer to me," Jesse said in a macho tone that Ellie couldn't help but note was a little uncharacteristic. She wasn't used to men fighting over her, and the thought of needing someone to defend her honor seemed straight out of the Dark Ages.

But despite everything, she felt almost grateful for this proof that Craig could not last a few hours without cheating on her. It had to be better to feel this heartache now than to allow herself to become even more emotionally invested in the love that had festered within her for years than she had previously been. She'd stay with Jesse for now; cute, reliable Jesse, who wouldn't challenge her as much in ten years as Craig had in a single night. And that had to be a good thing, she concluded, rising to answer the door, expecting Jesse home from the investigation he was conducting in some area clubs involving minors and alcohol.

"Back so soon?" she asked tiredly, as she swung open the door and found herself face to face with Craig. "Oh, my, god," she breathed angrily, rage rising in her steady voice, "Get _out_ of here."

"Wait!" he cried, placing his hands over hers, "Wait, please, Ellie, you just have to listen to me! None of it was my fault! It was all Manny - _she_ came onto _me_ in the restaurant!"

With a little effort, Ellie pulled her arms free, "Just get out of here, Craig," she said slowly, running her hands through her hair in exasperation.

"No! No, no, no, no! Not until you _listen _to me!" He shrieked, throwing his arms around her, partially in an embrace, but mostly to physically keep her from straying. As she fought against his hold, he continued: "I would _never_ cheat on you, Elle... Jesse is just a tool! He's a fucking tool and he caught me at a bad time and I could never, _ever_ love someone as much as I love you... You know that, don't you, Elle?"

"_Let go of me_!" Ellie yelled, attempting to squirm free. "Let _go_!"

It was at this moment that the door, which had been slammed shut during their struggle, re-opened itself slowly, revealing the confused visage of Jesse, returning from his assignment. For a moment, he stood, blinking at the chaos that had erupted in his apartment, before leaping into action. Within a few seconds, he had Craig on his back, pinned, and still yelling for Ellie to listen to his story. Homocidally angry and even a little perplexed, he stared into Craig's face, and as Craig's dialated pupils made contact with his own, he figured it out. "Are you fucking _high_, Craig?"

Behind them, a sob escaped Ellie's mouth. "How could you do this to me? ... Again! Is there ever going to be a point in your self-involved little universe when you realize that maybe - just maybe - you've hurt Ellie Nash _enough_ this time?"

Feeling the pressure of Jesse's weight, Craig finally ceased to struggle and lay flat on the hall floor. "I would never want to hurt you, Elle," he said sadly.

A cruel laugh of disbelief hiccuped out of her mouth, despite tears. "Ohhh, and it's not like going on a date with your ex-girlfriend mere hours after you claimed to love me and then showing up at my house coked out of your _mind_ would have hurt me or anything..." she spat, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"It's time for you to leave," Jesse said parentally, bending his knees to stand up. He walked over and put a protective arm around Ellie's shoulders as the girl pressed her face into his shirtfront to continue crying. He opened the door. "Go."

Understanding that he had been beaten, Craig trudged toward the open door complacently, waiting until it had been closed in his face to let the scream that had been rushing up his throat since the sight of her face after the door had opened had registered in his mind release itself through his lips.

His hands were shaking as he pulled out his cell phone to dial Manny's number. And by the time she had told him where she'd gotten the drugs, he could barely control them enough to place it back in his pocket. He began his walk down the hall, screaming a few more times for good measure, and ultimately came to the conclusion that if he couldn't have Ellie, he at least deserved the only other comfort he'd found could soothe the dull, aching pain in his soul.

----


End file.
